


Pure New Pleasure Seeker

by Donna_Immaculata



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Interspecies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2011-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-27 20:27:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/299729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Donna_Immaculata/pseuds/Donna_Immaculata
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The tenth body is a rather good one, even cats agree.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pure New Pleasure Seeker

Won't you show me new tricks  
Without the ramifications  
Give it a try  
Don't be shy  
Well you know you might like it  
Never been too keen a timekeeper  
But I'm a pure new pleasure seeker

Pure Pleasure Seeker, Moloko

She had pretty blue eyes and her hair looked irresistibly soft; but her greatest asset was her voice. It made him want to press his fingers against her throat to feel it vibrate while she was talking, to make that voice purr and miaow and then yowl.

At present, all he could do was keep her talking. And so he did.

She was telling him about the Face of Boe, telling him the stories he already knew, and which had always intrigued him and made him feel more humble than he ever felt with regard to another living being. A Time Lord's multiple life span was nothing when compared with the Face of Boe's millennia. It was terrifying and exhilarating at the same time, and it made his hands itch with the desire of smashing the glass and running his fingers along the Face of Boe's Face. But all he could do at present was stand there and listen, and he tilted his head, letting Novice Hame's voice caress him, and then he looked straight at her and _smiled_. Her breath barely hitched, but the words tumbling out of her mouth showed that, for a moment, he had got her flustered.

"One story says that just before his death, the Face of Boe will impart his great secret. He will speak those words only to one like himself-"

"What does that mean?" he asked, willing her to tell him what he already knew.

"It's just a story," she said, unnecessarily coy, as he thought.

"Tell me the rest."

"It's said he'll talk to a wanderer. To the man without a home. The lonely god."

And just like the first time when he had heard of that legend, the words sent a shiver of anticipation down his spine. The novice held his gaze, and he wondered how much she knew or guessed. He had seconds to decide how to proceed, seconds which he filled with staring at the Face of Boe thoughtfully, almost longingly, he felt, wishing the Face of Boe to reveal the mystery there and then. But the time wasn't right. Not yet. Not quite.

When he looked back at her, he saw that her blue cat eyes were wide open, the pupils large and glowing. There was a challenge in that gaze, and he knew that it was wrong - she was a nurse, a _nun_ \- but he remembered the oddly calculating look she had given him when he said he liked impossible. She might be a nurse and a nun, but she was also a woman and a cat... The Doctor grinned.

~*~

It was probably the wrongest thing he had ever done - certainly the wrongest thing he had ever done with _this_ body - but the fur covering her face had a strangely magnetic effect on his hands, and he was wondering whether she was as soft everywhere.

"Tell me, Novice Hame," he whispered, pressing his mouth to her pointy ear hidden under the white wimple, "are you as soft everywhere?"

He felt her body start to vibrate with suppressed purrs as his hand stroke down her spine. When it arrived at the small of her back, she arched involuntarily, cat instincts taking over, and he was startled by the wave of lust that poured over him. Yes, this new body was certainly more enthusiastic than his previous ones.

He pressed her up against the heavy metal door, feeling the cold draft from the elevator shaft in his back. It was oh-so-wrong, seducing a nun in a hospital ward full of dying people, but the sensations shooting through his body were so right, and if he had learned anything, it was that only the present counted.

Her purrs became more pronounced, and the vibrations were spreading through him, travelling up his hands and arms and causing his skin to tingle. There were too many layers of clothing between them, her robe and pinafore, and her veil, hanging askew, but there wasn't time for removing them completely, and he merely reached down and pulled her skirt up harshly, and she gave a soft miaow of surprise which he swallowed up with his mouth.

A first kiss with a new mouth and a new tongue and a new set of teeth was always a shock to the senses, and this time his senses were already rubbed raw by the vibrations of her body. Cupping her face in his hand, he felt little sparks of electricity explode in her fur and tease his nerve ends. Her tongue shot out with a vigour that surprised him. Its rough surface chafed almost painfully against his tongue, his lips, and just as he thought he couldn't take more sensations, his lower lip caught on her incisors, forcing a high-pitched whimper out of him.

Holding her head in place with one hand against her cheek, he pulled back a little, bringing his mouth out of reach of her sharp teeth and rough tongue, but staying close enough to feel her hair tickle his lips. His other hand was ghosting across her back, up her flank, and finally came to rest on her vibrating throat.

"You're a feral one, aren't you, sweetheart?" he murmured, and then shuddered as she licked his finger, flexing her tongue against his skin.

"I wonder," she purred, "do you feel you're clean enough or are you in need of some grooming?"

~*~

"You _are_ that soft everywhere," he said, later, adjusting his tie. She was straightening her skirt and doing up her wimple, and when he spoke, looked up and gave him an unblinking, feline stare.

"Is that the reason why you did it?"

He smiled and stepped closer, leaning in as he spoke. "You've got the most amazing voice I've heard in, ooh, many, many centuries. You must know its effect."

"Many centuries?" she repeated. "Who are you, Doctor?"

"Right now I'm just a man succumbing to the charm of a woman," he said, taking her hand and drawing small circles on its back with his thumb. "Is that all right with you?"

"Aren't you afraid of complications? You and I, we are not the same species." Her stance had changed subtly as she spoke, her spine curved and her eyes narrowed, and he was sure that the tip of her tail was swishing from side to side underneath the folds of her habit.

"You're a cat," he said, tightening his grip around her wrist. "You don't do complications." For a few heartbeats, her face tightened, but when she eventually broke out in a smile, he grinned in relief and continued in a light, playful tone: "You cats are easy: mount you from behind, bite your neck and keep one eye on the claws. Three simple rules. Humans, now, humans are dead complex. First, they do it in all sort of styles, you never know what you get: face-to-face, face-to-back, on the phone, under water, clothes off, clothes on, with props and weird rubbery implements, and then you get the long phone calls and post-coital discussions of possible ramifications... as long as you get _guilt_ in there somewhere, they're happy. Yes, Novice Hame, humans are complicated and unbalanced and unreliable. And yet you and me both care for them," he let go of her hand abruptly and reached around her for the door handle. "These humans in this ward," he said, pushing the door open and blinking against the sudden brightness, "tell me about them."

 

 **Epilogue-on-crack**

Several years later, though no-one except the Doctor could tell you how many, the Face of Boe, who had become his mentor after the Doctor had miraculously cured him by looking longingly at him through the smoky glass, found the Doctor on a remote planet, holding extremities with a tentacly thing.

"I brought someone to meet you," the Face of Boe telepathed, presenting a smallish bundle, though how he did it was a mystery on account of his having no hands and being locked up in a glass jar anyway.

The Doctor raised his eyebrows and looked the Face of Boe in the Face before lowering his freakishly long eyelashes and looking down at the bundle. It had a face, too, though its wasn't capitalised, slitted eyes and a furry little face, and looked gloomy.

"Go on, touch it," telepathed the Face of Boe.

"I've heard that one before," said the Doctor, adhering to his newnew, foxy characterisation. "And next thing I hear is you're pregnant."

"It's yours," the Face of Boe managed to sigh exasperatedly while telepathing. "It's even named after you. They called it the Dock."

"Who called it 'the Dock'?" asked the tentacly thing.

"No, he wasn't there," telepathed the Face of Boe, beating the old pun to death.

"You know, being enigmatic is one thing," said the Doctor, doing that thing with his jaw that he always does to indicate he's getting angry, "but you are just being deliberately obtuse."

"It was Hame," the Face of Boe admitted. "She's the mother. Remember her?"

"Hame, Hame... Can't say I do. What did she look like?"

"Slitted eyes, furry face, white wimple. You met her in New New York in five point five billion years time."

"How do you know she wasn't lying? It doesn't look even remotely like me," said the Doctor, secretly blessing his current face (which was a rather good one in any case).

The Face of Boe rolled his eyes.

"She was a _nun_."


End file.
